“I am sure we can accommodate you, my lord,” Lady Worthington said, rising from the sofa. “Welcome. I understand you and Eleanor have some business to conduct after we have tea.”

“We do. She is assisting me with an estate problem I am having.” Lady Worthington probably knew all about it.

As if the butler and footmen had been waiting for a signal, the servants carried in three good-sized trays filled with teapots, small sandwiches, and sweets. They were followed by Lord Worthington, holding his son’s and daughter’s hands, Lord and Lady Phinn, and Lord Stanwood. John wondered if any of the other family members would join them as well.

They greeted one another and Ladies Alice and Madeline before finding places to sit.

“I live across the square,” Stanwood said. “My sister and brother by marriage are staying with me for a while.”

Eleanor settled back on the sofa and began to pour from a large teapot and, to John’s amusement, little Elizabeth poured from a small pot. The tea she poured had already been fixed with lot of milk and, he supposed, some sugar.

Stanwood had taken a drink and put his cup down on a side table. “I understand you have need of people.”

“I do. Ele—Lady Eleanor has offered to help me.”

Stanwood leaned over and selected a jam tart from the tray nearest to him. “Yes. She has asked me if I have anyone available as well. I gave her a list of possibilities.”

John glanced at Worthington, but he was in conversation with his son. John was struck by the confidence her family had in Eleanor to negotiate something this important.

Eleanor glanced at him. “Would you like me to make you a plate, or will you help yourself ? As you see, we are informal at family teas.”

He didn’t know if this was yet another test or not. In for a penny, in for a pound. He reached out and took a biscuit. “I will help myself.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lady Alice’s look of approval. What else was going to happen today? Posy was suddenly next to him, and he assumed she wanted a biscuit. Instead, she inched forward, stretching her neck until she was just inches from his face, licked him lightly on his cheek, and stepped back.

John reached out and stroked her head. He really had not thought such a large dog could be so gentle. “Good girl.”

“She likes you,” Elizabeth explained.

Interestingly enough, no one else commented on the lick.

Lady Madeline, who had been quietly drinking her tea and eating a lemon tart, said, “Charlie, we will expect you at Worthington Place in July.”

Her brother swallowed a biscuit he’d popped into his mouth. “I wouldn’t miss it.”